“There is joy in exploring bodies together.”

I’m twenty-six, and I’ve had sex with around thirty people, maybe more depending what you feel counts as sex. I was only in relationships with a handful of them, many of them one night stands, occasional things with friends, or short (often very short) flings. And I’ve never felt like a “slut”, or like I’m doing something wrong.

Just over a month after I turned sixteen, I lost my virginity to a boy I’d met that same night at a party. He was also sixteen, and a virgin too, and we got along, flirted, and had sex. (Funnily enough, I had sex again with this same boy once more, three years later.) It had never been important to me that sex be “special”, although if that’s your thing, great! I don’t remember feeling especially nervous or like something especially momentous was happening, although of course I texted my friends immediately afterwards.

In retrospect, I was lucky to have a group of quite sex-positive friends, although of course we were a mess of hormones and had our share of poor decisions and fights. We didn’t slut-shame each other, we swapped masturbation tips and passed around dirty books (how retro is that?) I also benefited from access to very comprehensive sex education, and we were generally, from the start, aware and diligent about contraception and STI prevention.

Sex for me has always been something I’ve entered into easily. Funnily enough, I find the whole process of flirting supremely awkward and have major anxiety about rejection, so I tend to never make the first move, but if things are going nicely and I’m open to kissing them, I’m probably open to having sex with them.

I find it’s a good ice breaker. The moments after you have sex, especially good sex, there’s no more awkwardness. You lie there all sweaty and just look at each other and laugh. Sudden your bodies feel like they live easily together, because they’ve worked together. Sex when you’re in love is different and wonderful, but that doesn’t make casual sex worthless. It can be life-affirming and joyful and, most importantly, pleasurable. I’ve had wonderful sex with people I barely knew, or casually and intermittently with a friend I feel a sexual connection to. There is joy in exploring bodies together.

I feel no shame of my body when I’m having sex, not that I normally do otherwise. I don’t feel exposed or afraid. They think I look beautiful, or they wouldn’t be there. Your partner doesn’t care, whether it’s for a night or a lifetime. All bodies are beautiful as you explore them and make them moan at your touch.

Of course I’ve had bad casual sex. Not everyone is good at sex, and even those who are can’t be good all the time. Maybe your bodies just aren’t a good fit, or it’s just boring or unsatisfying. But most of the time, the experience as a whole is still fun. There is still joy in kissing someone, in holding someone, in admiring and being admired. You relate on a different level when you’re naked together. Sex should be laughter and pleasure and joy. It doesn’t have rules, except to respect everyone’s consent. It’s revealing and intimate even with a stranger. It can be full of beauty.

Perhaps I am promiscuous by the standards of society, but I can honestly say I don’t regret a single one of the people I’ve slept with. I would probably have been with many more if I was capable of being more forward. Of course there are people I wouldn’t go with now, but they’ve all been a part of who I am. I wouldn’t change it, I wouldn’t take it back, and I will never, ever allow anyone to shame me for it. I had sex with those people because I wanted to in that moment. That’s what matters. Have sex how you want to, on your terms. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you need to be with more or fewer people, or enjoy a certain kind of sex. It’s not boring to have vanilla sex, any more than it’s wrong to consensually explore the dirtiest kinks you can imagine. Sex is a different experience with every new person, and that is wonderful.

There is no such thing as a slut. Have all the funny, sweaty, joyful sex you like. Use a condom, get tested, and be safe. Respect other people’s boundaries, and your own. Explore and enjoy.

Posted on July 14, 2014September 26, 2014 by taithannah 0

A bar love poem (a note to drinkers)

With a new job interview on monday and the hope of getting out of bar work, I wrote a little poem about how i feel some of the men treat female bartenders..obviously not all are like this but I would say at least half of the men that come into the bars I have worked in in the last 5 years have been.

Your suit hangs looser than the magnum condoms your girlfriend buys
You’re drinking in my bar while she’s out talking to other guys
You tell me your sob story and ask what I would do
But if I were yours I’d probably be cheating too

You don’t even have work to do,
You could be at home trying to work things through
Maybe wine and dine, dinner for two
But you chat me up hoping I’ll go home with you

I’m more than half your age
And I don’t care about your hourly wage
Your only worth to me is the drinks you buy
And the amex card that you wave

My hourly wage is enough
I don’t need you to “take care of me” and “buy me stuff”
I’m not surprised your girls not there when you wake up

I serve men like you on a daily basis
Looking at girls with want on their faces
Grabbing arses and starring at tits
Who get offended when told “back off you cant have this”

I suggest approaching from a different angle
Take your drink and just be thankful
I don’t want to be in your twisted love triangle.

By Mollie – 21

Posted on July 12, 2014September 26, 2014 by pinkapplejuice 1

Invisible Monster

This is a powerful yet touching account of what it is like to live with a chronic disease ulcerative colitis, that I felt too important not to share. What a brave woman!

Posted on July 10, 2014September 26, 2014 by pinkapplejuice 0

“I’m used to my body doing what I want it to do, without pain. I take that for granted so much.”

I’m Hannah, one of the creators of Project Naked (that sounds kind of grand, but I can’t think of a better word!) I’m so happy to see how many new followers the blog is getting recently, and hope to hear stories from some of you! Here’s some stuff I’ve been thinking about for the past couple of days.

I’m currently away on a three-month trip across the US and Canada, and I’ve been reflecting the past few days on what my body means to me.

I’m in Vancouver right now, the tenth stop on my travels. The morning I was leaving Seattle to come here, I tripped running for the bus and totally decked myself, two rucksacks and all, and bashed up one of my knees. Thankfully I think the rucksack on my front stopped me hitting my face and breaking my nose, because fuck going to a hospital in America. I limped onto the bus and managed to make it to my train on time, despite having to take a couple of breaks when I felt faint from the shock of the fall and the pain in my swollen knee.

Then I made it to Vancouver and tripped again, only slightly this time but I hit the kerb and took the skin off my other knee. While I sat snivelling at a bus stop, mopping the blood up with baby wipes, a man stopped and gave me a hug, which was nice and exactly what I needed right then.

The past few days hobbling around on my bashed up knees has made me appreciate my normally strong body and realise how I take it for granted.

I’m used to my body doing what I want it to do, without pain. I take that for granted so much. Everywhere I’ve been, I’ve walked extensively at my usual quick pace, and my strong, dumpy wee legs take me wherever I want to go. If I want to walk 15 miles taking a convoluted route from the Upper East Side in Manhattan to Park Slope in Brooklyn, I can and I did. I can sit, crouch, squat and lounge on whatever surface I like when I’m tired.

And now for the last few days I’ve been limping around in mild pain with every step, lowering myself into and out of chairs like I’m 8 months pregnant and having to keep an eye on how I’m sitting so I don’t crack open my scabby knee suddenly or hit it on things.

I’m not complaining. This is a minor and temporary impairment and I feel it getting better every day, although I’m still hobbling up stairs slowly and getting frustrated by how much more slowly I’m walking. But it reminds me how I just assume my body will do things for me. I take it for granted that every day I can get out of bed without pain, walk without pain, sit however I like. I don’t appreciate it at all.

Another thing my injured knees have done is make me less self-conscious about my hairy legs. Even though I haven’t shaved them in over two years, I’m still not crazy about getting them out for the general public. People stare at them and nudge each other – not constantly, but enough that I notice and feel uncomfortable sometimes. And inflamed with feminist rage which just casts a downer on my day because WHY DO THEY CARE? And I’m not being paranoid and just assuming people are noticing. They definitely are. My hair is thick and dark, more obvious than on many guys’ legs, and while I understand that it’s unusual to see on a woman I wish that people wouldn’t stare.

But for the first few days my knee was too raw not to go bare-legged. So I had to get my shorts out and limp around in them. And then when I saw people staring at my legs I just assumed they were staring at my banged-up knees wondering what happened (which is still not polite, folks). I didn’t care if people stared at my legs because it was just more comfortable to have them out.

Trying to feel fully comfortable with my body is something I still have to do. I generally do like my body a lot. I think it looks nice, despite its “imperfections” as far as the media is concerned. I hardly ever obsess over it, and when I find myself thinking bad thoughts about it I push them away, because they are always bullshit. And I’m learning to appreciate its strength and power more.

My body carries me through life and helps me do amazing things. In just the past two months, it’s taken me white water rafting, walked around almost a dozen cities, climbed 500 stairs from a Vancouver beach (with two sore knees), swum in a Vermont lake and in the Pacific Ocean, and eaten more mini Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups than is really advisable. My body can let me see the whole world.

– Hannah, 26

Posted on July 5, 2014September 26, 2014 by taithannah 7

I’m starting to value myself for something other than my looks, and I’m actually kinda proud

To me, my personality consists of geekiness; which involves a serious penchant for comics, superheroes, films, books and video games. It also consists of my love of language, my inquisitiveness, my thirst for knowledge, my appreciation of art, photography, comedy, and theatre. My love of clothes and style, and my love of people and all their weird, delightful complexities.
And a whole bunch else which I’ll probably remember after I’ve typed this out.

Very little of what I think about when I think about ‘me’ has to do with my physical appearance.
Although, I love to do my hair, my make up, and choose outfits that look good to me.

Something that I noticed recently is that although when I think of ‘me’, most of what I think of relates to my characteristics and interests as apposed to my looks, it’s primarily my appearance that I think of when I think negatively about myself.

And that pisses me off.

Because I’ve been trained to be that way.

And I’m not a fan.

Advertising, television, films; so much tells me as a woman only to care about what I look like, not *who* I really am.

And quite frankly, fuck that.

Most mass media focuses on women in relation to their looks, their clothes,
and their sexuality. If you are not beautiful in the very narrow definition perpetuated by them, then you are not valued. I reject this notion wholeheartedly.

I used to be so shy, and still am. But I’m getting better at being confident. A lot of my shyness came from the fact that I didn’t feel worthy of people’s attention because I wasn’t beautiful enough.

But I’m getting better at ignoring that, and now, even though I still get scared about doing stuff because I’m shy, I just do it anyway. I pretend I’m confident, and not bothered by it. I’m slowly fooling myself into being more confident, and it’s a really good feeling.

I’m starting to value myself for something other than my looks, and I’m actually kinda proud.

In closing, if I can offer you one piece of advise, it would be to stop watching adverts, and buying the like of ‘heat’ magazine.
They are designed to make you hate yourself. And to fool you into thinking beauty can be achieved with the latest foundation or shampoo, when really your beauty comes from within you, and isn’t something that can be bought or sold.

Kate – 25

Posted on July 4, 2014September 26, 2014 by pinkapplejuice 0

Check in :)

I am one half of the coordinators for Project Naked, and I am overwhelmed and honoured from the response we have had with the project. I wanted to write a few words as to what we are about and my thoughts on the project. At first it was just for myself but I have decided to share it.

We have created this platform to empower women to think and talk about their bodies. We are surrounded by things/the media that tell us we are not good enough, not slim enough, not sleek enough, that our pores are too big or our skin is too blotchy, or our cellulite is disgusting. Never directly though. They are sly, they say you are beautiful IF.

We say you are what you are, celebrate it, appreciate it, love it.

Not that it’s easy.

I struggle all the time, even having done this project for over two years and having read so many inspirational stories from women who have overcome so much, lived so well, and succeed. And the truth is we all have those stories within, but finding them and recognising them is where the struggle can lie. For me anyways. I’m never quite 100% happy with my body, and I’m not always sure why. I do not always appreciate all that it does for me and can do. But I am also young and (maybe too) easily influenced by the negative things around, society’s niggles saying how we ‘should’ look. I think I need more life experience before I truly learn to ignore them. Doing this project has been a great help though.

What this project has given me is something real. I find it absolutely fascinating reading about other women’s lives and how they feel about their body, about nudity, about their lives they live and how the way we feel about our bodies does affect our overall lives. This is real life, this hasn’t been edited and photoshoped to make it something that can be bought/sold. It is real women living real lives in their real bodies, some of which have gone through so much and some of which have gone through ordinary processes in extraordinary ways.

I read silly gossip trashy magazines (still, although not often) and it makes me sad. I see adverts and feel manipulated. These stories and submissions we have been sent in make me happy, even when they are heart breaking, because – not only I’m happy we’ve received a submission! – I’m reading something that has not been fluffed up, polished or faked. The stories we receive are powerful, and they are sent from the “normal” “everyday” women and that is something special. I think it is special because they have taken the time to write something and submit it, and I think it is special because all the stories will affect the readers in different ways and it is amazing that this project and the submissions can be helping others without the writer even realising.

We get a lot of women saying to us “but I don’t know what to write!!” or “I don’t know how to put how I’m feeling into words” or “my story is boring, I don’t feel I have anything to say”. We think every woman has a story to tell, and we understand it isn’t easy putting feelings into words (hell that is something I struggle with a lot!) but even if it triggers someone to just think about it, think about their body and all the amazing things it can do that’s good enough for me! For example, I don’t like my thighs, never have. They don’t wobble the right way, I have stretch marks going in all directions and some annoying rash thing that keeps appearing even after lots of cream BUT they are my thighs and without them I couldn’t walk and run (not that I do that a lot, ha!) and best of all dance like a loon which is something I love to do. Shifting my focus from the negative to the positive is a process that has taken time and I don’t get it right all the time but it’s this project that has helped me work on it and I do believe everyone is capable of it.

We don’t want to be telling people how to think though, how they should start the process or what they need to do to feel better. That is why the majority of the posts are just the submissions that we get sent in, or find (and why we have long gaps between posts because sometimes we are waiting a long while for submissions!). We want those submissions to lead the blog and it be the main body of the content.

Doing this project has opened my eyes. There is no “normal” and perfection can lie everywhere, often within the imperfections! I like to read through the posts and stories and I would urge you to do the same because there is such a variety and they will truly open your eyes to how amazing, adaptable, versatile and unique our bodies are!

If you would like to share your story with us we would love to hear from you. Please email us on projectnaked@gmail.com 🙂

Posted on July 3, 2014July 16, 2014 by pinkapplejuice 2

Haikus about my body, my being

I’m a college lecturer in Media and English, a book reviewer and blogger.

Motherhood was and is a challenge for me. Not because I don’t feel like a mother or feel too lazy to bother about what it takes to be a mother. But because, I have a day job, I read a lot and I balance a household’s work. And add a two year old to it, and you have a masala! But I love it. Absolutely have no regrets about having conceived when I did, and having had a baby when I did! And by God’s grace, my husband and long-time friend, Terence Joseph is a gem. Hehe I know all wives would say that!

Below are a few Haikus I wrote after childbirth, last year.

Every drop of milk
of mine
is yours forever.

At the breast –
serene face,
watchful eyes.

Come, my child
let’s play
just you and me.

Shhh, he’s asleep
dreaming dreams
of tomorrow.

Starting to speak,
but even mama,
can’t comprehend.

A lover’s bed
unmade
memories that linger on.

And a short poem:

My body, A vessel

We were one,
You took shape inside me,
grew your limbs and eyes.

A speck that you once were,
a mere dot in a vast sea
now a little man yourself.

Our hearts used to beat in rhythm,
Now you lie on my chest,
my heartbeats lulling you to sleep.

My belly grew as you were designed,
The ridges and valleys still visible
on my stretched tummy.

The weight of life inside,
each day a new beginning,
each night a new feeling.

They told me it’d be sleepless nights,
now I wait for your sweet laughter,
to ring in my dreams.

Pain it was, searing through me,
Ripping my being apart.
I held back tears and groans,
Knowing it was you all along.

I gave you life,
And you gave meaning to mine.

I am a mother. A vessel.

Shana

Posted on July 1, 2014September 26, 2014 by pinkapplejuice 2

“This is the body I live in now. It won’t last forever. It is changing constantly.”

Comparing yourself to others is not a right thing to do when it comes to achieving a sense of freedom within the framework of your body. That is what I would do quite often, and it still happens to me sometimes. Like it or not, there will always be someone who is in a better shape and condition, of smoother skin, bigger eyes and sexier moves. Similarly, there will always be someone who is less attractive or of less capabilities than you.

There were a certain stages in my life when I would rediscover my body. One of them was, of course, my first sexual relationship. How important it was to hear that I was sexy, smelled nice and had amazing boobs. 14 years and a few relationships later I already know that the beauty is not as obvious as pleasing facial features and flat belly.
One of the breakthroughs in befriending my body was when I met a theatre group from Norway. After their performance, we had a walk around the old town and one of the actresses started to pet her arms and legs saying: “thank you for being strong and enabling me to perform today”. Then she explained: “I try to do that every day, cause I am grateful for my body being fit and the fact that I can do so many things thanks to it”.
“That is so true!” – I thought. We rarely notice when our body works perfectly fine (unless we use our bodies as a tool for work – as in dance or sport). We tend to realise how important it is when our condition worsens.

Now I see how lucky I am to live in my body. I call it my home and I try to take care of it as If it was my shelter. I want it to be healthy, strong and also, good looking. However, I am not obsessed with how I look and I don’t compare myself to others anymore (as often as before). There are some things I can change about my body to make it more flexible, fresh and healthy, so I do that. But there are many things I can’t change, so it is better to accept it.

It wasn’t always the case, though. Until my mid-twenties, I was very unhappy about my look and overall condition. I looked much better than I do now, though. First of all – I was younger, my skin was softer, boobs firmer and I was more energetic in general. But the only thing I could think of was my scars and how to get rid of them. When I think about it now and how it kept me away from sunny beaches, wearing dresses and being spontaneous, I feel pity for this pretty teenage girl hiding under tonnes of layers, ashamed of her body. I wanted to protect others from looking at my ugly parts and this way, to protect myself from being judged and rejected. It took me ages to realise that what others think is their business, not mine. I shouldn’t be sorry for something I can’t control and, more importantly, doesn’t cause any harm to anyone. This is how I look. Others may not like it, but I doubt they will spend their lives thinking about how unattractive the person they passed on the street was.

Another breakthrough was when I was given a laser treatment for my scars and it didn’t help at all. The doctor insisted I carried on with sessions (and spend more money in his clinic). He also said: “You will be back in a few years for wrinkles treatment.” I was raging. For him my body was something to be constantly improved. Ageing was something to deny and fight against. I decided to see another doctor just to have a second opinion. Luckily, he was the opposite. “Are your scars something that stops you from being in relationships or enjoying your social life?” – he asked. “We can of course try different treatment that would, in my opinion, help. However, why not spend money on something else and just ignore these unimportant details which your scars are?”

Boy did I want to hear that!

This is the body I live in now. It won’t last forever. It is changing constantly. What I can do now is to appreciate it as it is, support it, nourish it, listen to it, and thank it for being still strong and responsive.

What I would like my relationship with my body be like in the nearest future is to love it even when it is ill, stiff and in pain. To understand its limits and accept changes. That is the challenge and it is not easy, but I will give it a try.

– a 32-year-old woman

Posted on July 1, 2014September 26, 2014 by taithannah 0

Your Body

Many thanks to Mythili for sending us this great poem. Mythili recounts her experience of growing up in the South Indian state of Kerala. Even after moving away from what she calls her first home, some scars remain deep. They are given voice through this poem about the Indian woman’s body.

your body

your body is not your own,
when it is owned, it is owned.
not by you, by your patronymic name
and when you grow up, by your wedded name.

your body is not your own,
when it belongs, it belongs
not to you, to your husband when he plays
and when you give birth, to your birth helper.

your body is not your own,
when it pains, it pains
not because of you, by the glaring gaze
and when you dress, by your invitation to play.

your body is not your own,
when it bleeds, it bleeds
not because of you, by the masked vigilante
and when you cry, by the misery of your doom.

your body is not your own,
when it satiates, it satiates
not you, the hungry passersby
and when you crumble, by the masochist ego.

your body is not your own,
when it breaks, it breaks
not because of you, by the Suleiman’s hand
and when you fall, by the megalomaniac.

your body is not your own,
when it is chained, it is chained
not because of you, by history
and when you die, by the daughter you leave behind.

We love when you send us things! You can always reach us at projectnaked@gmail.com or tweet us @project_naked. Art, poems, writing – however you want to tell the story of your body, we want to hear it.

Posted on July 1, 2014September 26, 2014 by taithannah 1

Carol Rossetti – WOMEN

This is one of the reasons I love facebook and can’t quite give it up because I come across amazing things like this from the various pages I follow. This is the amazing work by Carol Rossetti, so simple yet so powerful! I wanted to share on the blog because I felt it so fitting and something a lot of woman will relate to. Also the illustrations are just too KICK ASS not to share.

Posted with permission. Please go to http://https://www.behance.net/carolrossetti to see more of her amazing work!

Posted on June 30, 2014September 26, 2014 by pinkapplejuice 195